New Year’s Eve was a low-key affair. We had a leisurely dinner with good friends at Central, noting that most of the clientele were 30 years younger than us. Everyone of our generation were seated in one section and the rest of the restaurant was fashionably young. The food was both delicious and beautifully presented. Chef Michel Richard was having a leisurely glass of wine with customers while his kitchen pumped out course after course of gourmet food.
Then we made it home to wait for the ball to drop. We all had mixed feelings about the fact that Dick Clark is still officiating. It’s certainly to his credit that he continues this tradition, but it’s such a blatant reminder that he’s leading our generation down a geriatric path. I’m thinking maybe it’s time for him to retire and just sit back and watch.
I did manage to find some hats and noisemakers, but my dislike of champagne was obvious when I realized I don’t own a single champagne flute. (Note the white wine glasses filled with bubbly in the above picture.)
Last night I was still in somewhat of a state of shock after learning that one of my best childhood friends is suffering from stage 4 lung cancer. She was our homecoming queen, the girl who amused us all by turning back flips up and down the hall before early morning French, our partner in many a harmless crime. It shakes me to my very core to realize how vulnerable we all are.
Best wishes to all for a healthy, happy 2011, but mostly to my long-time friend.